At last, a little way to the northward of Euston Road, the moral cloud seemed to lift, the moral atmosphere to change; clean blinds appeared in the windows, clean doorsteps before the doors, a different appeal in the neatly placed cards bearing the word ————————————— | APARTMENTS ————————————— | in the clear bright windows. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being. All right. At present I cannot marry, I will not become bound even to any one. He left the room, presumably to sleep elsewhere, but the only other room with a fire was the servant’s quarters. She wrote it down.
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